


Let me steal this moment from you now

by uran



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M, tag to 2x09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uran/pseuds/uran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After this, Stiles should probably start a list of his fetishes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let me steal this moment from you now

The first thing that registers for Stiles is the icy blue glow of Derek’s eyes, which almost certainly means he somehow lost his alpha-mojo and that just speaks of all kinds of shit blowing up right in their faces. The second is the definite lack of gun-waving psychopaths in his immediate vicinity. Really, his brain just sucks at prioritizing when he is high on Adderall, and terror.  
  
The twin lights of Derek’s eyes wobble closer, and Stiles can’t decide if the room is moving or Derek really can’t walk in a straight line. And what the hell, it’s not like he’s the one whose skull was almost bashed in with the butt of a gun. And even if he was, he’d just shrug it off like any other non-wolfsbane-related incident.  
  
Apparently while he was debating the questions of life, the universe, and the straightness of one Derek Hale - and wow, did that came out wrong or what - the wolf in question reached Stiles’ side, collapsing in an ungraceful heap. Aaand that’s definitely something new. Stiles might be man enough to admit in the privacy of his own head - and please let them never meet a supernatural being with mind-reading abilities - that Derek’s hotness makes him a bit biased, but he has never ever seen the alpha do anything like, _remotely_ approaching clumsy. Not back when Kate shot him, not when Peter almost killed him, and hell, he even managed to stay composed and lickable while floating in a pool for two hours.  
  
Dude, did he just use Derek and lickable in the same sentence? Well, concussion is always a valid excuse for temporary insanity. At least till the werewolf in question remains blissfully oblivious to Stiles’ train of thought. Although bumper cars or roller-coasters would probably be better metaphors in his case.  
  
Suddenly there is something warm pressing against his throat, startling enough to snap him out of his daydreams. Three of Derek’s fingers are laying lightly on his pulse point, checking for heartbeat. Apparently a few minutes of utter silence from Stiles leads Derek to distrust his wolfy-senses. Imagine that.  
  
“I’m fine,” he stutters out, his left hand coming up reflexively, fingers clamping around Derek’s wrist.  
  
“You don’t look fine. You look like someone almost brained you. Which they did,” comes the surprisingly wordy reaction.  
  
“Emphasis on the almost, man! Anyway, it takes much more than a creepy camera-guy to take out Stiles-he who runs with wolves-Stilinski. You should have figured out that by now.” And if by the end of his breath his head is as wobbly as Derek’s walk was minutes ago, it’s only the wolf's fault. Wobbliness must be infectious or something.  
  
And it only gets worse when he is suddenly grabbed by a decidedly grumpier-than-usual werewolf. His right arm is draped over Derek’s wide shoulders and a startlingly warm hand grips his left side as Derek lifts him to his feet. But something is not right: Stiles knows Derek’s strength rather intimately by now, and has seen guys twice his size thrown, beaten or otherwise mauled by Derek, without him breaking a sweat. So in theory the weight of one gangly teenager should be nothing to him, but Stiles can feel him stumble and strain to keep the both of them upright.  What the _fuck_ is going on, seriously? And while he is not so far gone that he actually expects an explanation from Derek of all people, he feels there is a crucial point to bring up regarding their current situation.  
  
"Sooo, your eyes are still doing the glowing thing which is a little cool and a lot creepy. Think you could, like, maybe stop so we'd be less target-practicey?" The innocent question leaves him wolfless in two seconds flat as Derek, like, teleports to the nearest reflective surface, staring in shock at the blue glow of his own eyes. After a few moments of silence Stiles risks a few steps toward Derek’s rigid back, figuring what’s one more deadly situation for the night. He lost count after the third anyway.  
  
And he seriously doesn’t want to push, but the “Dude, what happened to you?” is out before he has a chance to register that he is speaking. Derek only gets even more tense, bracing his arms on the doorframe of one of the deputy’s door, hanging his head in the picture of complete and utter defeat. And it’s scary, it’s fucking _terrifying_ , and Stiles is right behind Derek before he can think through how wise it is to do anything a werewolf could interpret as a threat right at the moment when said werewolf is having a breakdown. But he keeps not thinking as he lays a hand on Derek’s shoulder, feeling the muscles tense and relax in an inhumanely rapid succession, like Derek is fighting for control over something.  
  
“My uncle... Peter is back. He needed my blood to come back and he took it.” The shock of Derek’s voice is too much at first so Stiles can’t even register the words, but his body is a few paces ahead of his brain as he’s now gripping Derek’s shoulder with all his might, staring at the glowing eyes in the reflection of the door’s glass. He feels lightheaded again so he does the only logical thing and rests his forehead on Derek’s back. If he squints, he can see the top of Derek's tattoo through the tattered remains of the tank top and the familiar shape calms him for whatever reason. And since calm is good, very-very good, he holds still, staring at the top spiral of the triskele as Derek continues to speak. It must be opposite-day or something.  
  
“I’m still the alpha of the pack, but... He took something. Not the power or the position, I’d have to die for that. But something is missing and I don’t. Know. What.” Stiles can feel the words vibrate through Derek’s chest into him, turning his world upside down and he has to hold onto something or it’s entirely possible that he will fall apart right here and now. Most probably with Derek in tow. So he takes what’s closest, and winds his left arm around Derek’s waist, palm laying flat against the other’s stomach, every other finger touching skin through the gashes on the fabric. He can’t imagine the face Derek must make right now, but to look up would mean losing the sight of the tattoo, so for once his curiosity can get lost. But Derek must not mind the whole, well let’s be honest, cuddling thing, because Stiles can feel the tremors in Derek’s shoulder slow down, just as Stiles’ own heartbeat manages to reach something further from the heart-attack end of the spectrum.  
  
“You still have your pack. And now Scott too. They are stronger by the day, and you’ve got all of us. We will figure something out, we always do. It’s gonna be okay.” And thank god for werewolf hearing, ‘cause as pep-talks go this one is mumbled straight into the space between Derek’s shoulder-blades, so the words are slightly unintelligible and, by the end, a bit salty on Stiles’ tongue as his lips brushed against Derek’s skin.  Apparently he is a lot closer to him than he realized, _huh_. But frankly, with the day he’s having he can’t manage to give a single fuck about most likely molesting Derek. The guy was hanging on to Stiles for two hours in a pool, he can deal with a bit more human contact. And if he was offended, Stiles would be missing a few limbs by now. So all is well.  
  
But just to make sure there is no immediate threat of dismemberment, Stiles reluctantly raises his head, searching Derek’s gaze in the reflection. As their eyes lock, he can see the blue lights dim to their human-green hue - and when exactly did he notice that Derek has the most incredibly green eyes? - as the wolf relinquishes control. Derek still looks... broken, for the lack of better word, but he kinda always looks like that. Still, at least he seems more composed now, and Stiles is an expert in taking what he can get and rolling with the rest.  
  
He probably should release Derek before this gets awkward, tho’ who is he kidding... If his brain was online right now, he’d realize that they crossed awkward at the cuddling and dashed into Bizarro-town with the accidental-lips-on-skin thing. And as Derek keeps not pushing Stiles off and Stiles keeps not letting go of Derek, Stiles realizes he doesn’t want whatever it is to be an accident, he doesn’t want it explained away with fear or head trauma. But they have bad guys to defeat, and if they don’t move, something probably will attack them as they stand, and _that_ would be slightly awkward. So he drags his hand from Derek’s stomach, pulling the fabric with the tips of his fingers which are apparently just as reluctant to release Derek as their owner.  
  
Derek keeps staring into the reflection of Stiles’ eyes through everything and Stiles has to do something before he goes totally crazy. But it might be a bit late for that, ‘cause as he ducks his head to avoid Derek’s gaze, he is again faced with that enticing peek-a-boo Derek’s tattoo is making through the shirt, and before he can change his mind, he embraces the crazy, and places a kiss on the dead center of the triskele. His lips are slightly parted so he can taste the salt on Derek’s skin again and he never, _ever_ wants to forget this. After a few (dozen) heartbeats he steps back to give Derek room to turn around, to punch him or something, too wired to be anxious about the consequences.  
  
Of course that’s the moment Jackson comes crashing through the window.  
  
Seriously, this day _sucks_.

**Author's Note:**

> First Teen Wolf fic, hi there shiny new fandom! :3
> 
> Title from Placebo's cover of Running Up That Hill.


End file.
